My I is an other
by NinjaGirl007
Summary: A person walks down the street, without any aim... AChristmas story.


A little word : I hope you'll enjoyed it ! If you have, send me a review...If you haven't send me one all the same !! I'm french and this is my first fanfic in english, it is a translation of my original fanfic "Mon Je est un autre", I hope there's not too much mistakes in my english, if it is too revolting to read, tell me or correct my biggest mistakes as good as you can please, it will help me to improve myself ;-) Next time I'll writte an original english fic, that's a promess !!! :-) 

Ch'tit clin d'oeil aux français qui se seraient (par hasard bien sûr... lol ;-) ) égarés sur cette fic... Je l'ai aussi publiée en français sous le nom "Mon Je est un autre", allez vite la lire et donnez -moi votre avis !! Biseeeeeeeesssss ;-) 

MY "I" IS AN OTHER...

The snow isn't uniformely white, in fact it is strewn by million of little silver plated translucent crystals... That's a thing that the most majority of the LA citizens have never noticed. Sydney's foot draw aside the soft white carpet while they're walking, thus scattering these tiny diamonds almost invisible; and all that to go where ?

The young girl... Doesn't know, she didn't event raise the question, which can seems absolutely absurd and egoist after "what she has done" ! But she doesn't feel very concerned with it.She's walking. The street is full of people in this so-special day, the shiny colored garlands decorate the houses and the shops so that one cannot look at them without being dazzled, in every street there's a new small bell sond, and the old bearded man stops every child with his sweet voice to give him a loly pop and a kiss strewn with white beard. Yes, There do is a lot of people in these big shops main roads, parents trailing along their children or carying their coloured paper bags, friends chatting joyfully arm in arm, old couples in a hurry to join their familly... Everything which we can see is just joy and chatters, it is as if everybody of Los Angeles have arranged to meet themselves.

But... Why is she turning in this dark alley ? Sydney !! She's going away from the coulours, from the noise, from the music, and getting in the darkness of the little deserted streets... Even the cat which is crossing in front of her running, even the heavy silence don't manage to disturb her indifference. She's walking, and she doesn't mind about anything, she seems to think about nothing... About nobody.

Her way is passing quite a number of red ambers, of cars driven by men who call out to her smilingly, of wan street lamp... Farther there's Long-Water Street and Soho Street, streets of drug and extreme poverty, the unknown LA, the one that the tourists will never visit, because this part of the city is hidden from them. But she has stopped. On a large bridge overhanging the railroad.She's cold, her skin is icy and her hands are shaking on the fence which is the only thing to separe her from the gap. Minutes are going by. The silence. The dirty snow on the ground. The muted light of the street lamps. Deserted streets. The crying young woman. 

She even ignores the individual who's coming, and resting his elbows on the fence next to her. The man himself is quiet again, and both of these lonely beings are looking to the railroad and the faraway lights during a moment which would seems infinite to the in a hurry and excited mother who would cross their road.But there, they're only the two of them. After a moment, as if she wanted after all to know the face of the one sharing this melancholy with her, Sydney turns over in front of him. She should have been surprised, but she doesn't flinch. He smiles at her fleetingly, and the two of them immerse themselves in the contemplation of the landscape again, like a dumb acceptance of the other. For a long time, without a word. Then, things seems to alter.

V_ That's beautiful, isn't it ?

S_ Yes...

V, laughling_ We nevertheless are luky to be the only ones to see it, today... Nobody does like us.

Silence.

S_ That's right...Everybody is at home, with familly and friends, tearing off the wrappings of the presents, carving the turkey or chatting joyously... And us, whe're here... Why ?

Silence.

V_ That's your part to tell me this. Me, I was just living it up in my way, my mother has treated herself to a trip to Las Vegas, me, I'm strolling down the streets. Each of us has been in his own way, to change. Anyway, I did adviced her to have this trip,so...

So she looks at him, deeply puzzled, and answers his look with a resigned sigh. Because she knows it very well : he just has got his mother left. They had to stick together, always being there for the other, above all during the festive season, to forget death and loneliness...always...

He's waiting for her to speak,impassive face but sadder than before her last words. For the first time he feels this destabilizing impression of vulnerability by confiding in her in this way... She has to speak, and then they'll be quits with themselves. She speaks, her look turned to the infinite dotted with light.

S_ There were my father, Francie, Will... We where all there to live it up, everything was perfect... Untill Francie gave me my present... The "manual of the cool banker".You should have seen them laughing...I suddenly felt uncomfortable...Uncomfortable like I had never been, uncomfortable because of the lies I tell them about my daily life after I cross the doorstep every day, uncomfortable because they don't know, uncomfortable because I tell myself that I always have to bear it by myself the evening when I'm angry with Sloane, uncomfortable because I tell myself it will have to last in any case...

At last, as she says her words, she frees the liberating tears flowing without any barrier on the cheeks and the lips... He knows that anything can prevent her sorrow, even time, because if time doesn't evolve how can it be consoling ? So how him, simple man, simple... passer-by, could he make things change ? It is often said that if you want, you can... What an absurdity...

Under the street there's some pure snow left, which feet haven't soiled yet. Vaughn picks up some, and shows it to Sydney who keeps taken aback, surprised. Both of them bend over this snow. Immaculate. Cold. Vaughn looks at her.

V_ Tell me what you're seeing...

S_ Snow...

V_ And what else ?

S_...Nothing...

Sydney seems like hypnotized by Vaughn's words, but she does not understand. All in her is asking for understanding and Vaughn does know it. Sydney tries to understand everything, her life's meaning as what is behind the snow. And all that is exhausting her. Then he helps her.

V_ Look at the snow's surface attentively...

S_ It's shining...

V_ Yes... Snow isn't uniformely white, in fact it is strewn by million of little silver plated translucent crystals...But people don't know how to see it, because they don't look around enough...Look how beautiful it is...

For a few minutes, both of the two young people have stayed absorbed in its snow's contemplation. Nothing particularly transcendent have happened but yet they have felt happy as they weren't ten minutes ago.It may be the instant changing everything... Sydney offers her most lovely smile to Vaughn...And at this moment he does know... He has succeed in what didn't seemed possible. Sydney is happy. Thanks to him. Now they can resume their journey afetr this famous moment which they will recall for the rest of their life like a little secret anecdote, a Christmas which doesn't look like the others...

Everything is finished now, they go away from each other, each one into a different direction, as usual. Everything is becoming real again. She turns over for the last time.

S_ Thanks...

And her "Thanks" has got a new taste he has never felt before, but nevertheless God knows how many "thanks" she has told him...

He nods and addresses her a flawless look before going away, affraid of blushing, perhaps affraid of going back on this look...

Sydney is walking. She goes across these sordid streets again. She hears the noise again, in a muffled way and then distincter and distincter. She comes back to the world... Yes !! Come back Sydney !! Come back to us !! passers-by are still here. They're not the same as before, but the same happy and cheerful souls are remaining. She goes in the middle of the boulevard milling about world and cries. She spreads her arms in the form of a cross and raises her head to the sky, trying to win the translucent flakes with her tongue, like children use to do. Trying to win REALITY. Because yes, it's true : people don't see in the deepest of the snow flakes like in the deepest of the persons. The don't try to know, to guess, to adapt them to things, to take time for these things. And things, persons, keeps being unrevealed, misuderstood. Nobody tries like Sydney to catch this passing reality. Everybody goes near it without seing it. But she laughs. Because she knows that she'll be understood someday, she'll reveal herself or will be revealled to the world someday,someday she won't have to keep quiet about who she is any more , someday...

I say it like I think about

It is a simple evidence

I turn around the world 

because my Earth is round

I say it like I hope

For both the hemispheres

My games aren't yours

My I is an other

FIN

REVIEWS PLEASE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The "poema" in the end of the fic is an extract's translation of a song named "Mon Je est un autre", it's a Nilda Fernandez's song. The original french lyric of this part is :

Je le dis comme je pense

C'est une simple évidence

Je tourne autour du monde

Car ma Terre est ronde 

Je le dis comme j'espère

Pour les deux hémisphères

Mes jeux ne sont pas les vôtres

Mon Je est un autre


End file.
